


A Nice Cup of Tea

by SoftlyTea



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: 'herbal' tea, Aphrodisiacs, Drugged Sex, Drugging, Established couple, F/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Possibly Non-Con, Sex, Tea, a cup of drugged tea, can you consent to being drugged and having your ability to consent removed?, cultist roofies, hm, please read the notes first, possibly dub-con, quiet night in with a cup of tea, that's what happened, we know that casimir is still in there somewhere, well anyway if you can
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2019-01-01 01:31:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12145710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoftlyTea/pseuds/SoftlyTea
Summary: After a busy day of bandit-slaying, the Dragonborn is looking forward to a quiet evening in.





	A Nice Cup of Tea

**Author's Note:**

> Oookay. Tea, sex and Dunmer priests... what fun!
> 
> So Larysa, named before I had a clue about Altmeri naming conventions, was my first 'serious' Skyrim character and the one I actually completed the game with. She's made it into a couple of drabbles in the woefully-incomplete 30 Days of Skyrim Drabbles work. 
> 
> I would like to think that she and Erandur have had many conversations about Boundaries, and whether being drugged with Vaermina-cult compounds that make you lose all control of yourself and your body for the purposes of sex falls within said boundaries. However... eeh. Well, it is what it is. I'm playing with fire a bit here, I know. Please don't read if the thought of basically being (consensually?) roofied by your long-term partner squicks you out. It does end well.
> 
> Oh, one more thing... Cabbage bowling. If you need to level up your Alteration skill, the contents of the cabbage cart in Riverwood is excellent for telekinesis, as Larysa found out (much to the consternation of Riverwood's residents).

Larysa stretched her feet out towards the warmth of the fire and sighed happily. It had been an excellent day.

After she had killed Alduin, she had believed that she could live out the rest of her days in blissful indolence with Erandur, enjoying a life of good food, good wine, good books, good sex, and getting pleasantly fat. After all, if saving Nirn from the return of the dragons and bringing peace in the wake of a bloody civil war wasn't enough to merit a lifelong holiday, nothing was.  
  
The blissful indolence had lasted approximately a week. That week, indeed, had featured all of the aforementioned delights, save, perhaps, the resulting roundness. It had been idyllic, and very necessary, until one sunny morning she had awoken with a nagging restlessness. Erandur had shared this feeling, a certain culture shock from breaking from an old life too abruptly perhaps, and they had responded to it in the only way they could think of - by riding out to Falkreath in full armour and politely demanding to be informed of every single bounty going. It had been amusing to hear the Jarl's stammered protests ('No, you couldn't possibly, you've done enough, more than enough, it isn't _right_...'), until Larysa had gently pointed out that they were _bored_ , and bored citizens, she explained with a twinkle in her eye, were wont to find amusement that wasn't popular with the local populace, and perhaps he would care to speak to the inhabitants of Riverwood about cabbage bowling if he needed further clarification?  
  
Further clarification was most assuredly not needed, and they had spent the rest of the day burning, slashing and shooting their way through several rather unfortunate bandit camps. The relief at doing something active and useful was strong enough for them to make it a habit, and here they were, months later, bruised and exhausted and blissfully happy as darkness fell outside. The fire crackled in the grate, the scent of rose oil drifted from Larysa's damp hair, the lanterns cast their warm light over everything, Erandur was sitting opposite her engrossed in a book - everything was home, and everything was perfect.  
  
"Tea?" Erandur's voice was a welcome interruption in her musings.  
  
"Yes, please. What are you making?"  
  
"What would you like?"  
  
Larysa pondered this question for a moment. While she had resumed her alchemy studies since their victory, Erandur had taken to perfecting formulas and brews of a slightly different nature... but only slightly. She had naively thought he just liked to drink tea. It turned out that he liked to grow it, forage for it, blend it, experiment with it, write about it (yes, there was now a tea-related periodical that he wrote for, and it was apparently rather popular), and she wouldn't be surprised if he bathed in it, too. All that to say that a question like 'what would you like?' required careful thought. But then, they had had a full and exciting day of bandit-slaying, why shouldn't the adventure continue for just a little longer?  
  
"...Surprise me."  
  
Erandur's eyes twinkled ruby as he nodded his head in understanding and ducked into the kitchen, and Larysa picked up a book she had appropriated from the erstwhile bandits, flicked idly to the first page, and began to read.  
  
It took a chapter for the tea to arrive (and oh, how she loved being able to measure time in book chapters once more, and not other, more regimented methods of timekeeping!). An interesting blend, then; one that had taken even more care and attention than usual. She set her book to one side and smiled as Erandur pressed a warm, steaming mug into her hands and settled into the chair beside her to watch her reactions. This was a game they had; could Larysa apply her alchemy expertise to the correct identification of tea? She had been getting better and better at it recently, which, of course, had led Erandur to concoct more and more complex blends. This was obviously one of them, for it was an unusual scent that wafted to her nostrils with the steam. Unusual, but not at all unpleasant. She could pick out a few of the highlights - lavender was in there, as Erandur confirmed, along with the old Dunmeri staple trama root - but beyond that she drew blanks.  
  
"It smells like... like a victory for you this round. Give me a clue?"  
  
Erandur smiled knowingly. "Try some. You can't get very far on scent alone."  
  
Larysa chuckled and made a comment about regretting curing her lycanthropy, before taking a sip. It was delicious, and she told him so, and she identified jazbay in there as well, but nothing else. She was maddeningly curious, though. She normally did rather better than _this_ , unless Erandur had upped his game.  
  
She smirked. "I'm getting hints of skooma from that last bandit cave, and moon sugar for good measure. Maybe a bit of Balmora Blue, to make it well and truly contraband. Am I close?"  
  
He snorted in response. "Not even slightly, my dear."  
  
"Aww." She took another generous sip. Whatever it was, it was delicious. Tendrils of warmth were spreading out over her body, and the lavender was softening the world's edges in a very soothing way. It must have been a good lavender crop, indeed.  
  
"Any other guesses?"  
  
Larysa tried to think, but the exceptionally-potent lavender was having a softening effect on her competitive streak too. She no longer particularly minded about winning anymore. The tea was too good for such trivialities to matter.  
  
"...chamomile?"  
  
"Mm-hm. A little."  
  
She smiled and took another sip. No, it didn't matter what this was, so long as Erandur had taken a copy of the recipe. She would very much like to have more of this tea in future, it really was excellent. Everything seemed so right with the world - it had been a very pleasant day, to be sure, but it all seemed that much more so now. It was quite incredible that some simple herbs in boiling water had the power to do that.    
  
Erandur, for his part, watched in concealed anticipation as Larysa sipped her tea. He had cheated at the game. There was no way that she would be able to guess all of the ingredients in this particular blend, and this was not through any fault of her own. No, she hadn't been a cultist of Vaermina, so she couldn't possibly know what their special ritual alchemical compounds tasted like, could she. She didn't need to. She would learn what they did soon enough, and by her widening pupils and blissful smile, 'soon enough' was _now_.  
  
Nonetheless, he waited until she had finished the whole cup, just to be sure.  
  
\---  
  
There was a small, quiet and steadily diminishing part of Larysa's mind that was aware that something was not quite _right_. The majority, however, saw the state it found itself in as very much right. The warmth had suffused her whole body by now, as if she had just sunk into a hot spring from the inside out. Well, the analogy made perfect sense to her addled mind. Not only that, but she was convinced, utterly, that never in her life had she actually stopped to consider quite how attractive Erandur really was. Did he always look like that, or was it just the way the firelight shone in his eyes and carved his chiselled cheekbones still deeper that made him look so... enticing? He looked positively dangerous, and she knew well that he could be, but not towards her. Not like this. He looked _predatory_.  
  
The way her was looking at her, likewise, rather added to the effect.  
  
"Larysa."  
  
He _sounded_ predatory, too. She tried to focus on him, but it was becoming a struggle, as if she had had too much wine, but without the associated unpleasant head-spinning and nausea. She certainly felt it would be a good _idea_ to focus on him, though. His tone had spoken what his words did not.  
  
"Y-yes?" It was a squeak more than anything, a sad attempt at hiding what was happening to her. Had she been able to apply a logical, rational eye to the situation, she would have realised that whatever was happening to her was very much his doing in the first place, so any attempts to hide it would be futile. However, she could not, so she didn't.  
  
What _was_ happening to her, anyway? She needed to figure this out. She mustn't let Erandur know. He would be angry with her. He was probably angry with her already. He looked angry. Angry and... hungry.  
  
"You are going to do something for me."  
  
Do something... yes. She would do whatever he asked of her, and then everything would be perfect. She gave him what she hoped was a winsome smile.  
  
"You are going to stand up, undress slowly, and come and kneel at my feet."  
  
That small uncertain part of Larysa's mind looked on powerlessly as she pulled herself unsteadily to her feet, before it blinked out at last.

 

\--

 

Erandur's memories of the alchemical compound he had blended into his beloved's tea were mixed. In its strongest form, he had seen it used to incite people to do horrific things; kill loved ones, maim themselves, betray causes they would otherwise have died for. In its weakest form, however, it merely left its drinkers highly suggestible. 

As suggestible as the Altmer currently licking long, languid trails up his cock. 

There was something about the sight that spoke to the darker side of his personality. While she might have been a far cry from some of the typically arrogant, condescending members of her race, the sight of her on her knees before him, worshipping him, completely under his control, was exceptionally intoxicating nonetheless. She would find him a beneficent master, however - at least for tonight. 

Erandur stroked her hair gently back from her forehead as she took him into her mouth, and was rewarded with an appreciative moan that heightened the experience still further. He had told her to be slow and gentle, and in so doing she had brought him to a delicious plateau of sensation, pleasurable enough to keep him more than interested, but not so much that it was frustrating. He knew that he could maintain this rather meditative state for hours, although in normal contexts his kind-hearted nature would have stopped her long ago, fearing that she would grow bored despite all her enthusiastic assurances to the contrary. Tonight, however, he planned to indulge. 

He allowed his eyes to drift closed and his mind to clear as the warm arousal produced by her gentle ministrations pooled in his limbs. His fingers stroked absently through her hair. The fire crackled in the grate, running counterpoint to the occasional gentle wet sounds of Larysa's mouth sliding expertly along his length. 

"Stop." 

He hadn't wanted to say it. He wanted it to last forever, but he knew the effects of the tea would sadly not. 

She released him obediently and looked up at him through heavy lids. She was slightly flushed, and her hair was tousled where his fingers had combed through it, but apart from that she seemed utterly impassive. 

Time for the next part. If he were honest, he had been looking forward to this the most. While Larysa's slightly unconventional upbringing and extensive travels had cured her of most of her race's repressive complexes, there were still certain suggestions he would make that would be agreed to only after some gentle discomfort and mild embarrassment. What he was going to tell her to do was one of them. Larysa was not a mer who was at home in the spotlight. 

Larysa would not have much choice in the matter tonight. 

"Go and lie on the dining table and spread your legs." 

He wrapped a hand around his hardness and stroked himself gently, following the rhythm she had semi-consciously set as she rose to her feet and positioned herself on the table as he had commanded. The sight of her, and the scent of her arousal, compelled him to join her, to lavish the same attentions on her as she had on him, but he resisted. This was too good an opportunity to spend on normality. 

"Good. Touch yourself." 

As expected, there was no hint of reticence as Larysa's hand trailed idly down her body to its goal. Erandur's breath caught in his throat as he watched. He knew that he was about to be gifted with that most intimate of sights; what Larysa did when she was truly alone, with no audience to consider, for that was all her mind would be capable of at present. He almost felt guilty for the tea, but reminded himself that it was not so strong that she would be powerless to resist if it was something she truly did not want to do. 

Perhaps there was some part of her mind that was aware of his gaze, or did she really look quite that alluring when there was no-one around to allure? She had made the decision, or perhaps succumbed to the instinct, to maintain the same gentle, almost venerate mood he had asked of her. The way her fingers moved against her slick folds was almost hypnotic, and her little keens and gasps of pleasure as their experienced touch found familiar areas only added to the enchantment. What was it, he wondered, about watching a woman touch herself that was so captivating? He watched for as long as he dared, mindful of the effects wearing off too soon, idly mirroring her rhythm with his own hand. 

Perhaps next time he would have her do just this, and nothing else. 

He crossed over to her, meaning to tell her to stand, but he couldn't resist lifting her hand to his lips and sucking the evidence of her pleasure from her fingers. If he had denied himself the joy of tasting her earlier, he could at least indulge now. She followed his movements with eyes that had darkened slightly in arousal, but still there was no hint of resistance or question as he manoeuvred her, nor did she react to the throaty groan he didn't bother trying to suppress as her taste met his tongue. No, to all intents and purposes, she had about as much agency as a doll. 

Erandur returned her hand to her side and ran his own fingers along the path hers had followed. He noted in dark delight that her body had reacted where her mind could not; she was positively _dripping_. The aphrodisiac herbs he'd added in as a playful afterthought towards the end certainly hadn't gone amiss, it seemed. 

"On your feet." 

He hastily removed the rest of his clothes as she obeyed, and he allowed himself a moment to simply look at her. She stood, a picture of patience and enforced submission, and for an instant Casimir suggested that he could utterly destroy her and she would be powerless to resist. The thought made him throb with need. No, he told himself. Not tonight. Not for the first time. 

Instead, he ran an appreciative gaze, then a hand, over her body. Over every scar he had shown her to love until she saw them as badges of pride rather than of failure. Her wrists, silvery bracelets where Thalmor shackles had debrided the skin. The scars of countless fights fought out of love for others. From the hatched patterns the lash had left crawling up her back, to the more mundane burn marks resulting from a ward thrown up a fraction too late, her body was a map charting landscapes of pain and enduring. 

"You are beautiful..." 

No dismissive laugh, no joking retort. Just a slight cock of her head, as if to query how to respond to an order that had not been given. 

"...and you are mine. Turn around."

He wondered how pliant she would be to non-verbal commands. He fisted a hand in her hair and eased her gently down towards the wood of the table, and sure enough, she bent to his will easily.

He had already decided that he would be slightly selfish. Why shouldn't he? It wasn't as if she had the capacity to mind. He took a step back and observed the curve of her backside, the smooth golden skin of her legs, the sight of her folds glistening in the firelight, so inviting, holding such promise. Once again, as he did so often, he wondered at the miracle that had brought them together, although today his thoughts were tinted slightly darker. Of course, Casimir reminded him, with this blend you could have had her whenever you wanted.

The thought made him achingly hard. He stroked the head of his cock gently over her slick warmth, teasing himself as much as her. At times like this, he could almost recreate the magic of their first encounter, the feeling of thresholds, of things about to change forever.

When he could bear it no more, he pressed inside her, but slowly, so slowly, slowly enough that she shivered around him and a needy unconscious moan escaped her throat. He started equally slowly, attempting to savour every sensation of her, of being inside her, of the way she pulled him in, the way she pushed back against him, her body craving what her mind was unaware of. It was almost too much to take in. He felt her, leeching into his blood, his bones, his very soul and it was intoxicating enough to cause his breath to catch in his throat. He tried to bring himself to that same point of equilibrium as before, but it was no use. Even without her usual enthusiasm, his beloved's body still had the power to enslave his to the point that his mind's will was scarcely relevant. Ironic, he supposed, given their circumstances, but wasn't it ever thus in such things?

He maintained his slow, deliberate pace until he could bear his self-imposed torture no longer. He was desperate for release, both hers and his own, and he knew exactly how this was going to be achieved. He pulled out, the only reaction a slight exhalation that might have been a sigh, and took her gently by the wrist to guide her upright. She followed him impassively to the fire, where he pulled them both down to the soft rug before it-

"Fuck me." His voice was little more than a hoarse growl. 

She eased herself over him, her breath catching in her throat as she slid slowly down onto him. 

"Harder."

Now, at last, it was about her, what he knew she liked, what he _needed_ her to like, and she obeyed, falling easily into the rhythm that would send her straight over the edge. He grit his teeth and willed himself to hold back, although she wasn't making it easy. Just a moment or two more, he told himself. It was a dangerous game he was playing, but he hoped the prize would justify the high stakes. 

Suddenly, her rhythm faltered to a stop. This was the point at which Erandur would learn whether his gamble had paid off, and the timing couldn't be more perfect. The aphrodisiac effects of the tea were best enjoyed by a mind clear enough to appreciate them, after all. Her gaze sharpened, like clouds parting, and she reached up to push the tendrils of hair back from her damp brow as her awareness drifted back. She was assaulted, all of a sudden, by sensation; arousal, the fullness of her cunt, the softness of the rug, the warmth of the flames, Erandur's eyes fixed on her in dark lust... she was most assuredly _not_ sitting curled up in a chair reading a book, and yet, that was the last thing she could remember. 

"How-" she started, confusion and arousal warring on her flushed face, until arousal forced itself to the forefront of her mind and all else was forgotten. It seemed that she had decided that explanations could wait until she was not teetering on the brink of what promised to be a very violent orgasm. Her eyes darkened before she let out what could only be described as a snarl and began fucking him like her life depended on it. Part of him wanted it to last forever, the unrestrained drug-fuelled fervour with which she rode him, the wildness to her eyes, her movements, the sounds she made. The other part of him was dying for the release that was becoming more and more impossible to hold back.  He hung suspended between these two points, mind as useless as Larysa's had been, until she threw back her head and shrieked in ecstasy, nails raking down his chest as she clenched almost impossibly hard around him, and that was enough. His release hit him so hard there was a moment of nothingness, a moment where he might have died, a moment where all was him and her. 

Larysa's ears stopped ringing. Erandur relaxed the grip on her hips that he hadn't been aware he'd been holding. The world shifted slowly back into focus. He became dimly aware of simple, mundane things - the fire still crackling obliviously in the grate, Larysa's book lying open on the floor nearby where it had slipped from the arm of her chair. Larysa pulled her hair back from her face and looked down at him with an expression of lust-softened incredulity. Erandur attempted what he hoped was a lovable smile. 

She scowled half-heartedly as she rolled off him. "You're an absolute bastard and I love you." 

He chuckled as he gathered her close. 

"Tea?"


End file.
